Before we had got through the ordinary conventional remarks about the weather and the crops, a peasant drove up to the door in his cart with a message that an old peasant was dying in a neighbouring village, and desired the last consolations of religion.

Batushka was thus obliged to leave us, and his friend and I agreed to stroll leisurely in the direction of the village to which he was going, so as to meet him on his way home.

The harvest was already finished, so that our road, after emerging from the village, lay through stubble-fields.

Beyond this we entered the pine forest, and by the time we had reached this point I had succeeded in leading the conversation to the subject of clerical marriages.
"I have been thinking a good deal on this subject," I said, "and I should very much like to know your opinion about the system." My new acquaintance was a tall, lean, black-haired man, with a sallow complexion and vinegar aspect--evidently one of those unhappy mortals who are intended by Nature to take a pessimistic view of all things, and to point out to their fellows the deep shadows of human life.

I was not at all surprised, therefore, when he replied in a deep, decided tone, "Bad, very bad--utterly bad!" The way in which these words were pronounced left no doubt as to the opinion of the speaker, but I was desirous of knowing on what that opinion was founded--more especially as I seemed to detect in the tone a note of personal grievance.